I defer to Ward in our everyday life. There is a softness in my heart for him. I do things that serve him and our family. I take pleasure in making our home a place of comfort and respite. I enjoy them coming home from school and work to a home filled with warmth and the smells of good foods cooking and baking, and the underlying scent of lavender. I enjoy the looks of pleasure on their faces when they sink into home. That is this thing that we create. It doesn't matter where it is. It can be on vacation. It can be with family. Where ever we four are together, we are home.
In this place, in our home, we serve each other - it is our way. I will bring laundry into the living room and he will pull the basket between us and fold. I will see his glass empty and get up to refill it. He will pull my feet into his lap and massage my feet and legs. I will sit at his feet and take his boots off when he comes home and do the same, or slide behind him and massage his neck and shoulders. This is us. This is everyday.
He builds trust. He shows honor. He keeps me safe. He keeps us safe. He lifts and holds this family on his very broad shoulders. I look at him and I can see a bent and white-haired me in his eyes. He is who I was made to be with. He is my today, he is my future, he is my eternity.
Who he is calls to me. It is not just that I hear him, it is that his voice resonates deep in my soul. When he speaks, I soften and open to him. It is not just that he touches me, it is that his touch fills me with joy. It is not just that I offer him my deference, it is that I am fulfilled in bending under his hand and under his will.
I have lived my life, not enough for anyone, not the woman who bore me, not the father who sired me, not the half-brother who had the privilege of growing knowing his own worth, not the three with whom I shared my life before I met my Ward. I have stood strong and cold because I had to. I built walls that kept the hurt outside. I was strong. I was capable. I was dying inside. Then my Ward spoke in the dark. He spoke to me. His voice resonated. He gently uncurled my fingers, and took my hand. He showed me beauty I denied, suppressed because I could not bear it's rejection another time. He patiently took one brick at a time until I was exposed to his eyes. He pronounced me beautiful. He pronounced me loved.....and then he began to show me, every single day. He unlocked the secret places, and oh, how I shined for him.
He sees what no one else has seen. He accepts what no one else has ever invited. He accepts my service and calls it a gift. I am bound to him in ways I have always desired and never before realized. And in the binding he sets me free. There is nothing I would not give him. I prostrate myself before him and he lifts me up. I belong to him...completely...lucky girl.
